


Father Figure

by Snow_white79



Category: Supernatural
Genre: After season 12, Castiel is still "dead." Jack lives in the bunker with Sam and Dean. Sam gets his powers back., Gen, sometime during 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-09 23:18:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12286296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow_white79/pseuds/Snow_white79
Summary: Jack is currently living with Sam and Dean in the bunker. This story is about Sam's paternal relationship with Jack, and ends with Sam's powers returning.





	Father Figure

**I will be your father figure**   


Sam Winchester never saw himself as a father figure. He saw himself as a friend to others; maybe, once or a few times (long ago), he dreamt of being the fun uncle, full of wisdom and silly stories… someone who somebody trusted and loved, and he could love back without the fear of making a terrible mistake like he always seemed to make.   


No, Dean was the father figure. Sam still sometimes looked to him when he felt overwhelmed or confused. Dean knew the right answers. Most of the time anyways. Especially when it came to children. Maybe it was because Sam was always the youngest growing up. Maybe it was because he never really spent any time with children younger than himself. They seemed so fragile to him. Dean always made it look so easy. He could make a child laugh with a few simple words, he could pull a kid from a crying fit into a calm hug with a simple comforting look. Dean was the father figure, not Sam.   


But here Sam was, watching Lucifer’s son sleeping. What was he doing?   


Jack trusted him.   


And Sam found himself caring for Jack more than he ever thought possible. Jack Kline. The son of Lucifer himself. The Nephilim that could easily kill him and his brother but instead often found himself looking at Sam the same way Sam often looked over at Dean: with trust.   


Smiling softly, Sam sits down by the bed. He carefully moves the paperback book that Jack was reading off the comforter and places it on the night table. Sam knew Dean was still wary of the kid. The older Winchester seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop. He didn’t trust Jack the way Sam did. But Sam didn’t see Jack as “Lucifer’s spawn,” or “The Dark Nephilim.” Sam saw Jack as, well, Jack. A kid that was still learning about the world around him. The child, and to Sam he was just a child, didn’t understand humans. He didn’t understand why people said things they didn’t mean, or responded to things in ways that he would never anticipate. And sometimes, Jack would become frustrated, and his temper was definitely frightening, but Sam learned quickly to stay calm and offer choices to help Jack figure out how to handle his emotions. And Jack trusted Sam to help him.   


Just earlier that morning Jack became agitated when a fellow hunter didn’t agree with Sam and Dean’s course of action regarding a hunt. Sam recognized the signs, and the unfamiliar hunter took a step back, ready to respond with violence towards Jack who was only thinking of defending his caretakers.   


Sam had stepped in front of Jack, standing between the boy and the hunter. The younger Winchester firmly told Jack to stop, take a deep breath and suggested a time out to think about the situation and how to deal with it in a way that wouldn’t end with someone being hurt or killed. Jack paused, and frowned for a moment, but then Sam saw the trust in the boy’s eyes and he nodded his head, walked over to the motel’s bed and sat down.   


Sam pretended to ignore the look from his brother, but at that moment Sam realized he probably felt like Dean did all those years ago when Sam was ready to throw a fit over something John wanted them to do as teens.   


And now, as the moon was up and all was still, Sam found himself smiling at the sleeping Nephilim.   


“Why are you watching me?” Jack’s sleepy voice surprises Sam. The Nephilim doesn’t move, his eyes still closed as he lies on the bed, the blankets above his shoulders.   


“I’m sorry. I thought you were asleep,” Sam responds quietly. He isn’t sure if he should get up and leave or stay sitting. “I just came to check on you.”  


“Why? Is there a problem?” Jack asks, opening his eyes and slowly sitting up. He looks at Sam with concern.   


Sam quickly shakes his head, “No. No problem. I just wanted to see if you were asleep and if you needed anything.”  


“What would I require if I were asleep?” Jack asks, confused, and Sam can’t help but smile as he watches Jack tilt his head to one side. It reminds him of Cas. Oh, how Sam misses Cas.   


“It’s just one of those silly human things we do.” Sam says, still smiling.   


Nodding his head, Jack lies back down. “I am no longer tired.” He looks up at the ceiling and then turns his head to look at Sam.   


“It’s still pretty late, Jack.” Sam checks his phone, “It’s one in the morning.” He puts his phone back down, stifling a yawn as he feels his own exhaustion.   


“Then it’s early, not late, correct?” Jack asks.   


Sam smiles softly, “Yeah, I guess it’s early. You should still be sleeping though.”   


“Eight hours, correct?” Jack clarifies. He remembers reading that in a book.   


“Yep. Eight hours of sleep is ideal, but sometimes a body may need more or less.” Sam answers.   


“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Jack asks. Sam always goes to bed after him, but is awake when he wakes up. Jack wonders if the older the human is, the less sleep they may need.   


“I was about to head to bed. I was reading up on some lore and lost track of time.” Sam confesses. He leans back against the chair and closes his eyes. His eyelids burn from the need of sleep. He knows he hasn’t been sleeping as much as he should, and he knows that sooner rather than later, it’s going to come back to bite him in the ass.  


“You were looking into the alternate universe again.” Jack states. It isn’t a question. He knows what Sam has been doing. “Do you really think your mother is still alive?”   


“We have to be sure.” Sam knows that this is a sore topic for Dean. Which is why Sam often spends a few hours each night doing his own research away from his brother.   


“Dean believes she is dead. Both she and my father. He believes they are both dead. Like Castiel.” Jack comments. He has heard Dean say it enough times to know that Dean truly believes it to be true. He finds it strange that Sam and Dean believe in different things when they are brothers. Shouldn’t brothers believe in the same thing? Humans were strange.   


“I don’t believe she’s dead. At least, I hope she isn’t.” Sam answers, opening his tired eyes to look at Jack.   


“Is hope the same as belief?” The Nephilim asks.   


“Sometimes.”   


“Tell me about my father.” Jack decides. He likes hearing the story, though he knows that Sam doesn’t share all the information. He likes how Sam keeps the story tame, and allows Jack to draw his own conclusions.   


Sam takes a deep breath, reciting the story of Lucifer. He doesn’t go into details of his time in the cage. But Jack knows. Sam tries to keep the story generic from emotions. He stays with the facts. But Jack knows. Sam knows that Jack can read his thoughts, though the boy never voices it out loud because Dean says it is rude to read people’s minds, and Jack likes to follow rules the best that he can.   


“What does my father want me to do?” Jack asks. He always asks the same question when the story is done.   


“You do what you feel is right, Jack. That is all any father should want their child to do,” Sam answers, and he believes it’s the right answer regardless of whatever plan Lucifer may have wanted for Jack.   


Sitting up, Jack tilts his head again as he studies Sam’s expression. “You are tired.” He wonders if Sam is getting an adequate amount of sleep each night.  


Sam smiles, nodding his head in agreement. “Good night, Jack.”   


“Thank you,” Jack replies. He isn’t sure if he is supposed to smile. Dean has been trying to teach him that sometimes you are supposed to smile, and sometimes you aren’t. It’s a strange rule. Humans have very strange rules. He doesn’t like to smile, but for Sam he tries because he knows that when he smiles at the correct time, Sam’s smile widens and the corner of his eyes crinkle a bit and it makes something inside of Jack feel good. So he smiles.  


Sam grins, “Always, Jack. I’ll see you in the morning, buddy.”   


“Okay…buddy.” Jack tries the word on his tongue. It feels strange.   


Sam laughs softly. “Good night.”   


“Sam?” Jack isn’t sure he wants Sam to leave. He likes when they talk. He enjoys his time with Sam because Sam is patient and talks to him in a way that makes him feel good.   


“Yeah?” Sam asks, standing by the door.   


“Should I go and watch you sleep later?”   


Sam laughs again and shakes his head. “Nah, it’s okay. You go to sleep…stay in your bed until at least the sun comes up…unless you need something.”   


“Like what?” Jack asks, tilting his head again.   


Sam shrugs, “I dunno. If you need something that you can’t get on your own, I guess.”   


Jack nods his head, though he isn’t sure he understand. He watches the tall man leave the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Sighing, Jack lies back down and looks at the ceiling. He wonders what he might need in the middle of the night that he wouldn’t be able to obtain without the assistance of Sam Winchester.   


Back in his own room, Sam slowly undresses and pulls on his pajamas. He plans on talking to Dean tomorrow about what he has learned about the rift and how to re-open it. He hopes their eventual argument doesn’t upset Jack. Sam has noticed how tense Jack becomes when he and Dean argue, so he tries to limit their disagreements to when Jack isn’t around. There’s no need for Jack to feel anxious.   


Crawling into bed, Sam turns off the lights and closes his eyes.   


He isn’t sure how long he is asleep for when he hears his bedroom door open and footsteps shuffling inside. “Sam?”   


Frowning, Sam sits up, “Jack?”   


“I require assistance.”   


Now alert, Sam kicks off his sheets. “What’s wrong?” He reaches over to turn on the small light on his end table.   


“I cannot fall back to sleep because I do not understand.” Jack explains, and now with the light on, Sam can see the Nephilim’s confused expression and that the boy is most definitely still tired.   


Sam nods, “Okay. What don’t you understand?”  


Jack sits down on the bed. “Humans.”  


Sam tries not to laugh. “That’s pretty broad, bud… can we talk about the human race in the morning?”   


“It is the morning. It is currently 1:35 in the morning.” Jack had checked before he left his bedroom to seek out Sam’s assistance.   


Sam huffs a small laugh and rubs his face. “Dude, I mean when the sun comes up…”   


Jack looks down for a moment and Sam stops laughing. Concerned, he asks, “Hey, what’s going on in your head?”   


“I am Lucifer’s son. My father tortured you in ways that no human should be able to withstand. He hurt you and yet here you are caring for me.”   


“That’s what’s bothering you?” They’ve had this conversation enough times for Sam to know that there is more to it than this. Sam could never blame Jack for Lucifer’s crimes.   


“I don’t understand humans,” Jack confesses. “Most humans I have met are angry, scared and selfish. Only a few seem to actually have compassion inside of them. I understand why my father has been disgusted by humans…and I understand why he was angry with you. But I do not understand why you still care about others and why Dean misses Castiel when he is dead. And why people require assistance at night when they should be sleeping. Why do people need help in such a way? And why do humans smile at others sometimes and not at other times? Who decided these rules? And why do humans have these social rules? And when is it okay to kill another human? I see it on the television… how is that entertainment when entertainment is meant to entertain? How is death entertaining to humans when it is supposedly wrong?”   


Sam smiles tiredly. “That’s a lot of thoughts, Jack.”   


He nods his head, frustrated. “And I cannot sleep with these thoughts in my head. It is impossible.”   


Sam pats the mattress and Jack looks at the spot with confusion. With another smile, Sam explains, “It means for you to sit here, beside me. Better yet, lie down.”   


Jack follows the direction, allowing Sam to cover him with the blanket once he is lying down. “Okay,” Sam begins, “Close your eyes, okay?”   


Jack closes his eyes.   


Taking a deep breath, Sam begins. “Some people make bad choices in life. Some people don’t. And sometimes bad choices affect good people, and that makes the good people sometimes do things that are bad. It doesn’t mean that most humans are bad people. It just means that there is a lot of bad stuff that happens and it can overwhelm people to do things that may not be good. Dean and I…we’ve seen a lot of bad stuff. But we’ve also seen a lot of good. And we know at the end of the day, the good will always win out. It has to, you know? We believe in that, and we fight for it. Because you gotta fight for what you believe in. That’s what keeps us going. That’s what keeps anyone going. And as for the social norms…screw it. Do what you feel comfortable doing as long as you don’t hurt anyone in the process. Smile, don’t smile. It’s up to you, because you’re the boss of you. No one else.”   


“Free will?” Jack clarifies, his eyes still closed. That was a frequent discussion in the bunker.   


“Exactly.”   


Jack exhales slowly.   


“Sometimes a human requires another human to help them feel better about things.” Sam continues. “And that’s the same for Nephilim.” He smiles, lying down himself. “So if you want to sleep here, go for it. There isn’t much space and Dean says my mattress sucks.”   


“How does it suck?” Jack asks, opening his eyes in alarm.   


Sam smiles. Jack reminds him of Cas so much. “It’s a figure of speech. It doesn’t literally suck. He means it isn’t comfortable. But I like it.”   


“Free will.” Jack says. He hears Dean talk about the concept often enough to understand the depth of it.   


“Yep.”   


A pause. And then, Jack speaks up again. “Sam?”   


“Yeah?” Sam asks, closing his eyes. He feels himself falling back to sleep.   


“Sometimes your thoughts are loud.”   


Sam isn’t sure how to respond to that, so he doesn’t.   


“When you were talking to Dean about Missouri. You began to remember when you had powers. You used to have powers.” Jack turns his head to look at Sam.   


Sam nods his head, eyes still closed.   


“They are still in you. I sense them. But they’re dormant. Why don’t you want them?” It seems strange to Jack that a human wouldn’t want such an advantage, especially in Sam’s line of work.   


“I don’t think it’s a question of want, Jack. I just don’t need them. A lot of bad memories are with those powers…I don’t think about them because I don’t like who I was when I had them.” Sam tries not to think too much about those days. He opens his eyes when he feels Jack staring at him.   


“But you like yourself now?” Jack asks, concerned. He likes Sam very much and it would truly upset him if Sam did not agree with that assessment.   


Sam smiles softly, “Yeah, I think so.”   


Relieved, Jack nods his head and comments, “Then you should let your powers come back.” It seems only logical.   


Sam huffs a small laugh, closing his eyes again. “I don’t think so.”   


“I have powers.” Why wouldn’t Sam want them as well? Castiel had powers. Sam and Dean loved Castiel very much, and he knows that Sam loves him. Why wouldn’t he want powers like him? Sam would never be as strong and powerful as he is, but he could do so much more with the powers that currently lie dormant inside of him.   


“Yep. You sure do,” Sam yawns and rolls over onto his back. He didn’t mind Jack’s powers. If anything, they often came in handy when there was an emergency. Jack had saved their lives twice already in the past month.   


“Do my powers make you uncomfortable?” Jack asks, trying to understand.   


“No. They don’t make me uncomfortable, Jack. Not at all. It’s who you are.” He tries to open his eyes again, but he is just too tired.   


“But your powers are who you are as well…and you’re ignoring them.” Jack points out.   


“I don’t need them.” Sam explains, trying to stay awake to keep up with the conversation.   


Jack is quiet for a moment and he feels something inside of him. He isn’t sure what it is, but it is a similar feeling that occurs when he watches Sam and Dean argue loudly over something. “But Sam, what if I need them?”   


Sam frowns, opening his eyes and rolling over to look at Jack. “What do you mean?”   


“What if something were to happen to me?” Jack understands this feeling. He remembers reading the word. The word is panic. How can Sam protect him without his powers? His father would want Sam to protect him. He knows that.   


“You’re safe, Jack. Dean and I aren’t going to let anyone hurt you…and you’re pretty tough yourself.” He smiles at Jack, hoping to calm the Nephilim down when he hears the tremor in the boy’s voice.   


“But what if I am incapacitated? How will you keep me safe?” Jack’s eyes widen in fear.   


“Jack, calm down. You’re safe here. You’re safe now.”   


“But what if I am not? Sam, how will you protect me? I need you to protect me, Sam!” Jack sits up, confused at the feeling in his chest. Is that his heart? Why is it beating so fast?   


Sam sits up as well. “I’m going to always protect you, Jack. No question about that. You don’t gotta worry about that.”   


Jack shakes his head. “No. I must look ahead. This is something that must be dealt with at once, Sam.”   


Sam rubs the bridge of his nose. “Jack…” It was too early, or late, or whatever time it was. It was time to sleep, not philosophize about powers.   


“Free will means I do what I feel is right. What I am most comfortable with, correct?” Jack asks.   


“If it doesn’t hurt anyone and--” Sam begins and is immediately interrupted when Jack’s palm presses against the youngest Winchester’s forehead. Sam gasps, shutting his eyes tightly.   


It’s over quickly, or at least it seems to be when Sam opens his eyes.   


Jack is sitting on the chair beside the bed, already dressed. “I was watching you sleep.”   


Sam frowns, slowly sitting up. He touches his forehead and then looks back at Jack.   


“The sun is up. I heard Dean wake up earlier. I believe he is making breakfast.” Jack continues calmly.   


“Jack…” Sam begins slowly. He remembers what happened before he lost consciousness.   


“Yes, Sam?” Jack asks.   


“What did you do?” Sam isn’t sure he wants to know, though he is sure he has an idea.   


Jack tilts his head to one side, and again Sam thinks of Cas. “I did what I felt was right and what I was comfortable in doing. It did not cause anyone any pain and I am happy with the choice that was made.”   


Sam slowly nods his head. He doesn’t feel any different, and he is grateful for that. “Okay…um…I’m going to need to get dressed…” He isn’t sure what else to say. What’s done is done. He isn’t angry. He isn’t sure how he is supposed to feel about this.   


Jack nods his head and stand up. “I understand. You need privacy. I will see if Dean requires any assistance in the kitchen.”   


Once Jack leaves, Sam stands up and looks around his room. “Please tell me it didn’t work,” he whispers to himself. It isn’t that he is ashamed of his potential psychic abilities, but it has more to do with the memories that surround them, and he knows Dean will hate it… and that will probably already put more strain in the awkward relationship between Jack and Dean.   


Looking at his phone on the night table. Sam closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, exhales slowly and holds out his hand. He looks at his phone, concentrating on it. Slowly, it moves and begins to rise off the table and glides across the room into his hand. He sighs. Yep, Dean was going to be pissed.   


  
The End


End file.
